


Says the Stranger at the Bus Stop

by teletou



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Graduation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teletou/pseuds/teletou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you okay though, senpai?"</p><p>Jirou ponders, the weight of the question, if he should step out of the bus stop with an umbrella shielding him from the sunlight now too, on top of the drizzle before. He laughs, doesn't know why, the sound of his own voice too far, too filled with whimsy. He doesn't understand. It's probably for the better.</p><p>"Who knows." He feels the weight on shoulder dissipate in wisps, a light exhale weaved in-between his words. "I might never be okay."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Says the Stranger at the Bus Stop

"Did your message ever get through to him?"

 

Jirou looks up _―_  fraying shoelaces, trouser pocket improperly tucked, creased blazer collar _―_ sighs long and heavy. Green eyes impassive, fixed on fingers fiddling over a flower corsage over his breast pocket. Oreki Houtarou asks him like he would ask about the weather. Idle, murmured musings, unaware of the weight settling on the shoulders of the stranger he meets at the bus stop.

 

He had hoped before, that he wouldn't have to stand in this position again _―_  in front of him, locked in place. The stranger Oreki Houtarou meets during a summer shower, under the shelter of the bus stop overhang.

 

"I don't know." A lie. One Oreki sees through clearly.

 

"Should I have not asked?"

 

It's unfair, how much this mirrors months back, behind bicycle racks, away from the festival crowds. Fingers curled, Jirou digs his nails into the heel of his palm, into the hard plastic case holding his diploma. The early spring breeze reminds him too much of late autumn chills, faraway cheerful chattering comes with the memory of his sudden streak of impulsive mischief.

 

"Nothing's stopping you from asking."

 

He breaths, again _―_  wonders how he managed to stay calm before. Oreki isn't even looking at him, finds something interesting in the dry branches winding above them.

 

  
_Was his palm sweaty back then, too?_ _Did his shoulders shake as much as they did now?_ Jirou couldn't remember.  


 

Maybe he's far too broken now, to care much.

 

Jirou shifts his eyes back down, to the branches casting shadows across the ground and over their shoes. Oreki says nothing, over a beat of breath, longer, stretching silence further between them.

 

_Unfair._

 

"It reached him," he starts, soft, wonders if Oreki could even hear him. "But not in the way I hoped."

 

"I'm sorry." Oreki says, without meaning. "I asked, but I don't really know what to say."

 

_Unfair._

 

"Isn't that something new?" Jirou chuckles into a curled hand, looks even further away across the yard, to the school gates bathed in sunlight streaming through midday clouds. In between his classmates, fluttering skirts, shoulders bumping together, a flicker of brown hair. A laugh too loose, too carefree. 

 

_Unfair―_

 

  
"Not that it's any of my business, but..." He finally looks _―_   _really looks_   _―_ at Oreki, finds green eyes looking back, still unreadable. "I don't think it's right to just leave it like this."  


 

"Unfair." He murmurs, a mistake.

 

  
"Senpai?" Oreki tilts his head, confused, like he isn't tearing open old wounds he's been  _trying to―_   


 

"Why are you here?" His voice is jarringly serene as his gaze shifts to somewhere behind Oreki _―_  again, towards the gates, towards a smile under a puddle of sunshine. "Didn't you have enough of this?"

 

"Ah..." Jirou takes in Oreki's moment of speechlessness, relishing in a misplaced sense of comfort. "I guess... I got curious," he says, voice fading out into quiet embarrassment.

 

  
"I don't know what to say to satisfy your curiosity." Under someone ruffling his hair, Muneyoshi _―_  bright,  _bright ―_ looks up, smiles when their eyes meet. Jirou looks away. His own shadow pools under his soles.  _Dark._   


 

Muneyoshi holds up his diploma case, holds up two fingers as a few of their classmates crowd around him for a selfie. Jirou clutches his tighter, snaps back to face Oreki.

 

The stranger hiding under the bus stop watches a drop of rain fall from the overhang as the sky clears. Colourful umbrellas close as people continue to walk down the street in front of them. Oreki Houtarou offers parting words, before they go their separate ways.

 

"Are you okay though, senpai?"

 

Jirou ponders, the weight of the question, if he should step out of the bus stop with an umbrella shielding him from the sunlight now too, on top of the drizzle before. He laughs, doesn't know why, the sound of his own voice too far, too filled with whimsy. He doesn't understand. It's probably for the better.

 

"Who knows." He feels the weight on shoulder dissipate in wisps, a light exhale weaved in-between his words. "I might never be okay."

 

  
He smiles, to Muneyoshi who calls out him, waving his hand above his head and standing on his tiptoes. He takes a step, before looking back towards Oreki, watching the tail end of a shadow moving past, following clouds overhead. Oreki stays still, watching him, expectant, maybe. He isn't sure. Even towards the end, Oreki is still hard to read.  _Unfair._   


 

"I don't think I regret it, though." He laughs again, chest tight, cheeks aching. "Thank you, Oreki-kun."


End file.
